Free Look Closely by Laura Caldwell Page B

letter was in a plain, white envelope, and just as Del a had said, it bore a return address from Santa Fe, New Mexico.
    “Can I keep these?” I asked. “Just for a few days, I mean.”
    “Don’t worry. That’s why I brought them out. You can have them.”

    She put her hand on my head, stroking my bangs back, making me remember the way she had done that same thing once when I was a smal child. I’d been sick, I remembered, and Del a had carried my lunch on a white tray to my room. I hadn’t been able to eat, so she sat on the side of my bed and stroked my hair until I fel asleep.
    Odd,Ithought,thatitshouldhavebeenDel atakingcareofmethatdayandnotmymother,butIhad thedistinctrecol ectionofmymotherbeingabsent, of Del a coming to get me from school, Del a takingmytemperatureandhelpingmeintocoolsheets.
    “You’ve always been so good to our family,” I said.
    “Wel , of course. I love you al . I’ve always done what I’ve been asked.”
    “You’ve been wonderful.” I paused. “I do have another question for you. As far as you know, did the police find anything after her death?”
    “No,” Del a said, sitting in a chair next to me. “They talked to everyone once or twice, and they decided that whatever happened was an accident, and that’s what I came to believe, too.”
    She nodded as if to reassure herself. “No one would’ve wanted to hurt your mama. Everyone loved her.”
    “Everyone?” I said, thinking of the letter implying murder, and Ty’s recol ection of his father’s wordsthathewasgoingto“findoutwhokil edher.”
    “Wel , sweetie, if you’re thinking about your father, he always loved your mom. Even when they separated and he was living in Chicago, he stil loved her.”
    I sat without moving. The word separated battered my memory. Had I known this and buried it along with so many other things? Nothing came to me. Not even a shred of recognition.
    “Separated?” I said, my voice coming out a little high.
    Del a looked at me, her face slightly alarmed. “Yes. Your parents had broken up. You don’t remember that, either?”
    7
    “Hey, you’re back,” Ty said, looking up from the front desk, where he was sorting through a stack of papers. “How’d it go?”
    “Okay.” I shifted my purse to the other shoulder. Although the letters from my brother and sister added no real weight, I thought I could feel them inside my purse, waiting.
    Ty pushed aside his paperwork and leaned on the counter. “Want to tel me about it?”
    I did. I wanted to blurt, “My parents were separated!” But more than anything I wanted to read the letters and see if I could find Dan and Caroline. “Not just yet. Thanks, though.”
    A sconce shone behind Ty’s head, making his hair look redder, making him seem younger somehow. “How about going out later?” he said. “I could show you some of the Woodland Dunes hot spots.” He rol ed his eyes as he said the phrase “hot spots.”
    “Yeah, maybe. I’ve got to read over some things first, and I think I’l do it on my balcony. Is there any way to get a glass of white wine sent up to my room?”
    “I’l take care of it.”
    “Thanks. I appreciate it.” Ty and I stood stil a moment, smiling at each other, but then I touched my purse and felt the imagined heft of the letters. “Bye for now,” I said and headed for the stairs.
    Fifteenminuteslater,Iwassettledonthechaise lounge on the balcony. On the table at my side was a wedge of Gruyère cheese, a smal loaf of bread and a bottle of pinot grigio in a tan plastic bucket that read “Long Beach Inn” on the side. Elaine, the housekeeper, had brought it up, saying it was compliments of the house. A smal note had been tucked under the napkin that read, “Hope you find what you’re looking for. Let me know if I can help. Ty.”
    The note touched me more than I’d have thought possible, and I kept picking it up, reading it again, running my finger over the blue ink. It was